Those Fateful Steps to War
by lieutenant Alia
Summary: A prisoner of her own mind, trapped in the Guild and part of an endless political monopoly; will Sonea ever find her true self again? Or will it come calling for her, in the ominous beat of the war drums?
1. Her Forbidden Fruit

Her Forbidden Fruit

"Why do I always seem to fall for the wrong man?"

He laughed, causing strands of her hair to gently caress her face. The touch was soft; a reality in what had been a night of utter unreality. A night of a possibility that had never occurred to her, yet she had welcomed it gladly for in the long years she had been a live, it was the only solace she had managed to procure.

"Maybe it is the fact that you always seem to give us a second chance."

She scowled. "You make me sound weak."

Weakness, for one such as her, was a burden too great to bear. One she, in fact, could ill afford. It was difficult for this particular woman to be a female among males. There was too much that went against her; her background, her friends, of whom there were little to none, and her history. She was, in effect, a woman who travelled always in a room with four walls and no windows. Every move she made was met by prohibition, by fear and self doubt. That was why weakness was something that she couldn't allow for if she was weak, she would crumple beneath the well made boots of Kyralian society.

She glanced worriedly at her companion, tense and secretly afraid that he saw her as nothing but a piece of pleasure he had managed to force into his submission. For that was what men like him did, was it not? They manipulated the hearts of women and invited them into a bed of pretence and scandal. And even, in the end, when the scandal was uncovered, for it would undoubtedly be revealed to the light of day by some good for nothing gossip, it was the woman who suffered. Not the man and his ferocious ways, not the man with his slick manner and uncaring attitude. It would be the poor woman who was fool enough to think that there was one person in the entire world who cared enough for her to say 'I love you'. While she would be metaphorically stoned and burned by the penetrating stares of the elite he would be off, seducing another woman and feeding off the male pride and animalistic glee of a catch that has been perfectly caught and killed.

And it wasn't as if she had anything to offer this man, who had chosen her out of the many, to join him in this foolish act. She was by no means young. That she was wise enough to know. Every day in the looking glass she saw the age lines draw a more complicated map on her pale skin, emphasising the darkness of her eyes, and the delicateness of her features. Her hair was still black yet lacked the fullness of youth; instead it hung as she wanted it to; in slight disarray, to show that somewhere in her soul she was alive. Just because everything around her had died didn't mean that she had also lost her will to live. Of wealth and fame, yes she had a little; products of a youth that was long gone, a life that she only remembered with the pain and loss.

However, as she looked at her companion now, that man she still held such doubt in, she found him smiling at her. It was a smile that was tender, something she wasn't used to on his face, yet infused in the gentle happiness was a coyness she definitely was used to, a sort of mocking that only they shared. The smile was a symbol of the countless memories that had together; good yet mostly bad. It held in its usually brooding folds an irony which caused her own lips to curl. They were a unique pair, it reassured her, and were equal. Should they be discovered, she realised belatedly, they would be both be in trouble.

Responding to the smile that had spread over her face, her companion lightly brushed the back of his hand down her cheek and murmured, "If there was ever a woman who epitomised the meaning of strength, it would be you."

She gasped, surprised by his admonishment.

"It's true. I have always thought so...well, nearly always thought so." He corrected one he saw her frown.

"What I meant was that you seem to display a...compassion no other Kyralian woman I have met seems to possess. It doesn't make you weak; it can only ever make you stronger. Even as we lay here in this...err...most compromising of positions I see you still questioning me. My motivations."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, "I didn't realise I was so easy to read."

"No," he laughed, "You are not easy to read, the opposite in fact. I just know you...it has been a long time."

She smiled, "It has, hasn't it. I'm confused though, how does this...compassion of mine make me stronger?"

"You're ability to forgive yet never forget. No matter what the Guild do to you, no matter what fate, time and every worldly being does to you, it seems you just take the burden of hurt and store it away. You just...carry on as if nothing had changed."

His words surprised her a little. The insight he had into her life, when he had only really been a main part of it recently, was shocking. How could he have seen so much when he was only a spectator viewing the show from the farthest seat? She considered her companion once more, really looked at that face she had taken for granted. At the moment he revealed nothing but good humour, evident in the deepened lines around his own mouth and eyes. _He's not so young himself. _

She, however, looked deeper, past the surface she saw every day. What was it that made him so perceptive of her? How did he know her so well? He tilted his head, curious at her stare and there, briefly she saw a flash of something in his eyes. It had, nevertheless, disappeared as fast as she had seen it. Maybe it was a flicker from the flame of the lamp that glowed softly behind her. She felt his arms tighten about her waist slightly and smiled as he leaned forward, 'what are you looking for now."

She grinned; embarrassed that he had noticed once more, 'Nothing. I was just...looking.'

"If you say so."

'I do.'

She felt the soft tickle of his breath on her ear as he leant forward even more to whisper, "It's what drew me to you, you know."

Her heart suddenly started to race in her chest and she turned her head quickly to catch his eyes.

'What is?"

His lips gently brushed her cheek, 'You're strength.' They moved to her forehead, 'You're compassion.' And finally he moved to hold prisoner her eyes, and without knowing, he heart, 'actually...it is everything about you.'

Then those lips pressed against her own, and that was the last thing the torn and broken Sonea, Black Magician of the Magician's Guild of Kyralia, once exiled novice and now protector of the Allied lands, knew for a long while.


	2. Shattered Pieces of Greatness

**Part One-The calm before the storm**

Shattered Pieces of Greatness

One Year Earlier...

Contentment, to her utter chagrin, was not an emotion Sonea felt much in the last ten years. No. The emotion was in fact so distant from her present life that it came as much of a surprise for her to feel it that particular morning. However, even in her constant state of caution she could, for once, appreciate the beauty of the real life around her. Through the haze of her memories she managed to take in the utter wonder of Imardin in the early morning light for up on Sarika's Hill she had the best view in the entire city.

Looking down the fairly steep slope she could see the yellow and brown stone of the city contrasted perfectly against the brilliant blue of the sky. It was a sign of a good summer when the spring was so fresh. She could smell it one the breeze, the new life of the fresh leaves growing on the trees behind her. Faintly she could hear the noise from the city itself, the constant murmur of human life, so different than the quietness of the animal. Here, up on the hill, she could hear the insects buzzing among the flowers, see their glittering transparent wings moves faster than the eyes could see, beautiful gems against the bright purples and blues of the flowers they hovered by. She could hear the slight shifting and snuffling of the woodland animals, invisible in the darkness under the trees leafy canopy. It was peaceful in the animal world. The noise was one of serenity.

Down in the city however, well, some poets claimed that early morning was the time where Imardin's voice could be heard the best. She was described as a city as ancient as time, always a place of life and hope. This morning she had decided to murmur in contentment at her thriving populace whereas some days she would scream in rage at the disaster and havoc that had been wreaked in her cobblestone streets. Much like the shrieks she had let loose during the winter storms after the Ichani Invasion. It was safe to say that Imardin was a city, although steeped in ancient tradition and even more ancient magic, that was very much alive, and very much ready for the coming centuries.

All this beauty, the nature around her and the constant movement of the city below her made Sonea feel full and brimming with happiness. She was happy because, that morning, she felt a part of the city, a part of Imardin and her mother Kyralia. Usually the outcast, she could now celebrate a unity with the land she had been born in and had grown up in her whole life.

To improve matters, a parcel had arrived for her that morning, bringing with it tidings and well wishing for the future. It was her birthday.

Sonea grinned at the memory. Her heart had leapt as she recognised the elegant handwriting on the single note that had accompanied her gift. It was handwriting that she had seen many a time, reading books on a knowledge so forbidden it had cost her her freedom, her lover and almost her life. Akkarin's handwriting.

Even though it had been nearly ten years since she had last seen him, Sonea couldn't help but feel a fondness that was just a little stronger than mere companionship for her former guardian. For the only man she had ever loved. No matter how many times she had told herself that she was well and truly over the man that had once inspired her to fear for her life around him, she could never quite lose the memories they had together. Nor the fact that they had a son together.

Suddenly her brought mood faded away and Sonea was left frowning at the cityscape before her. Lorkin. One loss out of a list of many, yet it was her greatest.

_At least he is safe with the Delvons, _she reassured herself, _at least with them no harm will befall him. If only I could see him more often. If only...no! Stop this!_

She pushed herself up forcefully from the grassy patch she had been sitting on and closed her eyes briefly. It was one of her ways of trying to control the panic and pain that grew in her chest when she thought of her only child. It had been unavoidable, what had happened with regards to Lorkin. The Delvons had been insistent. Akkarin had been insistent that she remained behind.

In her chest, Sonea's heart was racing with a ferocity that was uncanny. As a healer it always amazed her the power the mind had over the body, and this was but another example of it. She tried to control the beating structure by breathing slowly, in and out. Repeatedly until she eventually did gain a measure of calm. As always it took a while.

Sonea opened her eyes and looked down towards the inner circle, to the south where she knew the Delvon's family mansion to be. It was there that Lorkin resided, in a bedroom that was large and airy, and looked out onto the street. She had checked. And as she thought of him she pulled out the parcel that had been weighing down the pocket of her robe.

It was rectangular in shape, thick and wrapped in crinkling brown paper. She pulled the white note that lay, tucked, beneath the parcel string and turned it over once more to read the words she had already memorised.

"May you have many more years to bring the Guild back to their senses, my dear, irascible novice, Sonea."

Sonea smiled. It must have killed Indria to read those words, and Sonea felt no compunction for the feeling of self satisfaction that coursed through her at the thought.

In her time in the city, Sonea had met her fair share of women; in the hospices they came to her as mothers, wives and sisters, desperate for her to cure their ailing family member. She could recognise and join in their concern for it was hers every day; such was the duty she took on when she became a healer. In the Guild they were the women she worked with; some her friends and others cold acquaintances. Less relatable as a result of their fear of her, Sonea could not help but feel isolated from them. The worst, by far, were the women of the city. Those socialites that had nothing better to do than gossip and attend an endless array of parties and gatherings. When they say her in the streets their very bows were infused with a sneer and a backstabbing laugh. They saw her as nothing more than a whore who had insured she be impregnated with the child of the most powerful man in Kyralia. They had forgotten that a few months before she had revealed she was pregnant, Sonea had been the only one willing and loyal enough to stand at his side.

It was from this group that Indria had been chosen, as a wife to the former High Lord, who had to return to Sachaka with all haste. It was a part of his punishment. Although he would remain a part of the Guild and help Sonea defend it should Kyralia ever face invasion again, he had been forced into the wastes of Sachaka to show the Guild the Black Magic would never be tolerated. To Sonea's disgust, Indria had followed him there like a Limek in heat, forced upon him by his infuriating family.

Every time Sonea thought of the woman it made her blood boil, but she had to be grateful that the woman' s ambition had ensured her son a life of luxury and freedom.

She tucked the note back into her robe pocket and quickly removed the string and paper off her birthday parcel. For minutes afterwards Sonea's laughter echoed around the hill. _Typical Akkarin._

The first of her gifts was obviously for Lorkin; a book of tales for young boys. Akkarin knew that his son loved reading just as much as she did; a trait he had noticed the last time Lorkin had visited him. However, her gift, the one which had been so amusing, was also a book, title; 'The Ring Within' by one Lord Liken. It wasn't the book that amused Sonea but the pun behind the title. The hope it gave her and the excitement it caused to flow through her entire body, like a wave of heat spreading from her toes into her very soul. With bated breath she turned the cover of her book, hoping against hope that she was right.

She was.

A perfect circle had been cut out deeply from the old parchment pages of the book. It must have taken some time but he had managed to do it without disturbing how the pages were connected to the spine of the book. And nestled within the nest of pages was a single gold ring.

She couldn't help it. Sonea grinned. At last, a chance to hear his voice, a chance to hear that deep voice of reason, even if it was only in her mind. It almost brought tears to her eyes to think that he was so close, within touching distance. The strength of her emotions shocked her. She didn't realise how much she had missed Akkarin until this moment.

She opened the book further and managed to find the place where the ring was flush against the page, yet she hesitated. There was a reason why the Guild had forbidden her to contact Akkarin. Together, while they had been a force for good, an unstoppable force, the Guild had to be wary for they could not allow Akkarin and Sonea to take the reins once more. The Ichani invading Kyralia had been an emergency but the Guild needed to control their Black Magicians. Especially Akkarin. They knew that Sonea would follow him to the end of the world. It was a bond they had formed over the years they had been High Lord and Novice, when Akkarin had been proved right and when Sonea had fallen in love and had Akkarin's child. To keep them separated was the only way to control Akkarin should he get any ideas into his head that Kyralia's future was at risk once more.

In the end, it was Sonea's heart that won the battle. She had to speak with him, even of it was only this once. Cautiously she lifted the ring off the page by its golden band. IN the sun the red glass gem glittered like a ruby, and Sonea felt a thrill as she imagined Akkarin, secreted away in some part of his Sachakan home, making this one ring for her. It was an image she enjoyed, Indria definitely didn't know about this.

Slowly lowering herself back onto the grass, Sonea lay on her back and allowed the morning sun to wash over her face and hands. It was wholesome and made her feel better, more comfortable as she slipped the ring onto her finger.

_Akkarin? _She called tentatively.

Sonea gasped in delight as his familiar personality surrounded her. Physically she felt a tear escape the cover of her eye lid to sneak down her cheek into the grass, but she wouldn't let that distract her, for in the darkness of her mind she could feel him coming to join her for the first time in too many years.

_You're crying?_

_It's been a while. _

She felt his guilt through the ring.

_I know, Sonea. _

They remained silent for a while, both unsure of what to say. They had awaited this moment for so long and now that it had come they didn't know what to do.

_Sonea...I'm sorry._

With those words she was undone.

_Don't, please Sonea, my love, please don't._

_That's the thing, Akkarin, I'm not yours anymore. That's what is killing me. _

The guilt intensified.

_Sonea, there is nothing in this world that will change what we had. Now, they won't let us be together but never forget that there was a day where I kissed you without a care. There was a day where I was able to run my hands through your hair and love you as you deserved. Never forget that._

Even as he spoke the memories of their last night together, of waking in the morning dawn to realise that they would probably never see each other again, rose to coalesce behind her eyes.

_What's the point of remembering?_

She knew what he was thinking yet neither of them dared to utter the word. Hope. They could not hope to see each other again because it was an impossibility that simply hurt too much. She sensed that he understood.

_How is Indria doing? _She asked instead.

Immediately she felt a malicious amusement from him.

_Oh, her! She's fine. I think. As far as I know she's in Elyne. _

_Elyne!_

_She got tired of the fact that there's nothing to do out here but look at the desert and go to Arvice, a dead city in itself. _

Sonea felt a wry amusement of her own. _And what about those long cold winter nights alone at home?_

_I was conspicuously absent._

She smiled, however, before she could respond a voice, faintly, called her name. Instantly fear coursed through her body and she immediately opened her eyes to stare into the wrinkled and accusing face of Rothen. As fruitless as it was, she attempted to hide the ring by wriggling it off her finger and hiding it in the palm of her hand, yet it was too late. Rothen had already seen.

'Sonea.' He muttered, looking down at her fisted hand.

'Rothen, just leave it.'

He brought his eyes up to meet hers once more. 'He should know better.'

Those words again. Again and again and again. 'He should know..., 'you should know...', 'they should have known...'. Did anybody every think that maybe she and Akkarin were in full knowledge of what they were doing when they made love, when they declared themselves before each other with nary a lie or a threat in sight? How was it that Kyralian society could dictate what a man as strong as Akkarin and a woman as stubborn as she could do? Yet it had. Those constant mutterings had forced them apart and now there was nothing that could be done to reunify them. Why was it that Rothen couldn't understand this and let her have her moment with Akkarin, the first in a very long time. Was it so wrong, to still love, in some way, a man that had shown her what it was to be free, what it was to love and cherish your country more so than your own life. These things Akkarin had given to her and she had placed close to her heart for they had changed her and made her stronger. By knowing the price of losing her country she had been prepared to lose Akkarin and their son, for she was the protector of Kyralia, just as she would have been her son's protector.

Inside her Sonea knew what Rothen would ask of her next. And she knew in her heart that she would not be able to do it, not for him, not this time. He knew it to.

'Sonea, what benefit will you get from communing with him?'

She looked up to scowl at him, 'I don't know, Rothen. I just...have to. I just have to.'

'No you don't.'

'And how do you know what I need?'

With a sad smile, Rothen lowered himself to the ground and patted her gently on the shoulder. 'When I lost Yilara I wanted to hold onto everything that she had ever owned, anything that, in her life, she had touched or held dear. I guess by doing so I thought that somehow I was still connected to her. But Sonea...it only ever made things worse. The feeling of closeness I got, the feeling of contentment only ever lasted for a few moments. It didn't give me the strength to wake up and face the day, or take care of Dorrien. I eventually realised that...that I had to let go.'

Sonea reached up and held the hand that rested on her shoulder, trying to comfort the man who had been brave for her for so long. She had heard in Rothen's voice, his grief over the loss of his beloved wife. Where she had only lost Akkarin to Sachaka he had lost Yilara to the void of death. There was nothing that could ever compare with that. It made Sonea realise that, if Rothen could move on with his life as he had eventually done after Yilara's death, then she could to. He had, after all, went on to become her guardian, suffer the fear of Akkarin's time as High Lord and live through the Ichani invasion. If anything, he was the ideal representation of what true strength was. He had lived through so much and still held no regrets, that she knew of anyway, still held no grudges or hatreds.

Yet how could she let go of Akkarin?

'It will be hard Sonea, I know, but you have to carry on with your own life and leave him. Just as he will, in time, realise that he must do the same.'

'I just don't want to.'

'How do you ever think you will get Lorkin back, if you don't?'

Sonea let loose a harsh laugh, 'As if they would allow me to keep him with me if I distanced myself from Akkarin. What do they think I have been doing for the last ten years? What was the point of Akkarin going to Sachaka? Of me remaining a prisoner of the Guild? No, they have their own cruel plans for my son. The only thing I can do is to try and teach him otherwise while they still allow me to visit him.'

'Sonea, you never know what can happen.' Rothen sighed and pushed himself to his feet. 'Think about it. Oh,' he nodded at the ring that lay on her palm, 'and try not to use that where somebody can see you.'

Sonea smiled and rose. 'You're always watching out for me, Rothen.'

He laughed and fell into step beside her as she made her way onto the path that led into the forest and eventually back down to the Guild. 'What else am I to do when you seem so intent on breaking the Guild's rules?'

'Take on another novice to guide?'

He glared mockingly at her, 'Too old for that. Plus, I have too much on my hands already looking after you.'

'Rothen, I'm thirty. I can look after myself.'

'You could have fooled me.'

Through the thick, penetrating growth of the forest a thin, high pitched scream reached the two magicians. The retort in Sonea's throat died and she looked at Rothen, catching the same look of confusion and fear on his face that had suddenly erupted in her heart. They heard the scream once more, louder and infused with even more panic. Without so much as a word Sonea began to move toward the sound, like an insect drawn towards the dangerous flame. All thought left her mind as she focussed, calming herself, for a battle she did not know she would fight. It was an instinct she had developed in the wastes of Sachaka when her life was in constant danger from the threat of an unknown people who hated her only for the reason that she was linked to the man that they hated...and of course because she was Kyralian too.

Now, as the scream rang through the peaceful forest once more, splitting the trees with its unnatural and unwelcome sound, she found herself running. Abandoned was the lost love, the helplessness of her current situation and the hurt she felt at the separation from her son forced upon her by Akkarin's family. She shed the weak exterior and revealed the cold hard core that lay so deep within it was hard to see at times. Yet it was always there, was always waiting for a moment like this...when Sonea would eventually step up and show the true extent of her powers.


	3. A Deadly Mixture of Valour and Courage

**A Deadly Mixture of Valour and Courage**

A very wise man once said it took a fool, a martyr or a genius to murder a magician. They of course were thinking of the deadly fact that a magician's magic consumes and obliterates his body once death has taken that final strand of control away. This wise old man was thinking as many old men do; of the physical self. He saw the destructive nature of this secret trap, one which many people were not aware of. He saw, with the analytical eye of the dominant gender the potential for such a trap. How it made many magicians superior, even godlike, over the mere non magician. Those without magic were nothing but dust in the wind. They were pitiful and weak. Nothing of consequence or importance. However, this wise old man, was only ever a man. He saw grandeur where he wanted to see it, yet how could he understand the power that these insignificant non magicians held over their supposed 'superiors'? How could he anticipate that, because these pitiful people were so vulnerable, they commanded more protection and sincere care that any magician could award another magician? How could he understand the love that a magician gave to the people who were just not like them? The people who were normal, and could give this being of elongated life, the feeling of normalcy that they so craved. How could he understand the emotions that coursed through Sonea, a mother who was broken by society's iron clad rules, as she burst from the leafy forest foliage to see her life's work destroyed before her very eyes? How could this old, wizened man understand a mother's ferocious love; and her insatiable need for revenge?

The scream died as young Hania saw her cousin run out of the forest. Sonea saw the little girl on the university steps. Pale, in her simple dress and dirty knees, she looked ready to drop. Sonea sped towards her, aware that the Guild grounds were quieter that they should have been at that time of the day. Where were the Novices? The magicians and servants? Even during classes there was always someone wandering about, however the open ground in front of the university was as silent as the cemetery behind it.

Sonea bounded up the steps and dropped to her knees before the tearful Hania.

"What has happened? Where is everybody?"

"In there," the little girl sniffled. She gestured towards the dark university entrance hall. "They took them all in there."

Suspicion began to worm its way into Sonea's heart and she rose slowly, keeping her hand on Hania's shoulder in a vain attempt to reassure the girl. She peered into the hall beyond but however saw no life, not a whisper of movement or sound. Whoever it was must be further in the university. Sonea turned to Hania again and felt her chest tighten as she saw the fear in the child's face. She knew that such innocence should not be corrupted with terror or fright. In the slums she had seen what fear could do to a child. It made them cold...calculating. It made children grow too fast and even as she yearned to keep on moving and do her duty as Black Magician of the Guild, she could not help but bring herself down to the girl's level again and placate her.

"It's going to be okay, Hania. Are you listening to me?" She nodded.

Sonea tried, and failed, to smile. "Good. Now...Hania...do you know who took the magicians in there?" She gestured towards the hall.

Hania shook her head. "They were big ...they were big...and..." Her face scrunched up as a new wave of tears trickled down her cheeks. "They were shouting and...I didn't know what they were saying..." even more tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

Sonea turned as she heard an out of breath Rothen draw up beside her.

"What had happened?" he panted.

Sonea rose, "I don't know yet. Will you...?" she gestured towards Hania.

Rothen nodded, "Of course."

Sonea squeezed Hania's shoulder once and moved towards the entrance hall. As she entered the darkness she could taste the tension on her tongue, could almost imagine she could heard the distant weeping of frightened magicians somewhere in the university. Before she got far, however, a tiny voice spoke up behind her.

"Lorkin was with them."

Sonea's insides froze. Lorkin! She spun around to stare at Hania but the girl had hidden her face in her chubby little hands. Instead she looked into Rothen's face and saw the fear there that she felt in her heart. That fear however was slowly turning to horror as he looked, not at her, but something over her right shoulder. At the last moment Sonea heard the silent footstep over the girl's weeping but it was too late. Before she could turn something slammed into her temple and she fell into blackness, Rothen's shout ringing in her ears.

"I think she is waking up."

"Quick! Make sure she is bound. We do not want any accident while we are here."

Sonea groaned as hands roughly turned her over onto her stomach and pulled at her wrists. They continued to talk in hushed tones yet their accents were so thick she could not understand what they said over the din in her head.

Reaching out, she tried to soothe the pain that lurked behind her closed eyes with magic. No power leapt to respond to her wish. She tried again but found herself inconspicuously light: as if a great weight had been lifted off her chest while she had been knocked unconscious.

She moaned as she realised that she had no power, it had been drained from her.

"You have, no doubt, discovered that we have taken your power. As detestable as the act is we could not risk you fighting us, Sonea, for you must listen to us first."

Blearily Sonea opened her eyes. It took her a moment to focus, for the light was so bright. However, in the swarm of colours a face became distinct. To her initial relief it wasn't Sachakan, as she had feared when she had met Hania on the steps. However her relief was chased away with the wry thought that because these people were not Sachakan didn't meant that she was any safer. For one she didn't have any magic and second of all at least she knew how to deal with a Sachakan threat. These people were new...she didn't know who they were or what they were capable of.

The man before her smiled as she glared at him. Able to see him know she could, to her utter chagrin, _appreciate _the smooth contours of his pale skin. He had prominent cheek bones that were more authorative than starved. His lips were full and curved up invitingly, which only enhanced the green of his eyes. His black hair was short and oddly militant for a man that looked more suited to be in the King's court than on a battle field.

"Who are you?" Sonea whispered.

The chuckled, "You can call me Dorik, for the moment at least."

He rose and turned to a burly man that was standing behind him.

"Please go and ensure that the others have successfully contained all the magicians."

The man nodded and left. Dorik turned fluidly and regarded Sonea with eyes that were both inquisitive yet...guarded, As if he didn't want to reveal too much of himself to her. This only increased her suspicions...who were these people?

"You're accent," she said, 'You're not from here."

She phrased it as a statement to get him talking. She knew that he would only answer her vaguely if she asked another question. She had a tendency to attract people like that.

He smiled once more. "Indeed I am. Want to guess where I'm from?"

"I'm not big on guessing games."

Sitting gracefully in a chair, he chuckled. "It won't hurt anybody to play along."

"And I guess it won't hurt anybody if I don't." She said, allowing a note of sarcasm to infuse her voice.

"It depends."

Sonea sighed. She had heard the tone of warning in his voice. She knew what he meant.

"O would be able to guess better if I could suit up and actually get a good look at you."

"Pardon me, of course. I should have realised that sitting on the floor is not one of the most comfortable positions."

As he got up to help her into a chair, Sonea took the opportunity to look around. One glance told her they were in Osen's study. The Administrator, having taken over after Lorlen died during the Ichani Invasion, had changed nothing about the room. That was her first piece of luck. The second was the Dorik placed her in a chair just before the Osen's desk. She was closer to the doorway that led to the tunnels under the university.

As he settled himself in his chair again, Dorik gave Sonea an expectant smile. "Where were we?"

"I've never seen anybody like you before."

Dorik shook his head. "That is not necessarily true. We, after all, are Kyralian."

"So this is a plot to overthrow the King? What was the plan? You take the Magician's Guild...take me by threatening to kill my son. Then, once the King realises there is no way to fight a foreign _magical _enemy without his beloved Guild, watch the King capitulate and take Kyralia?"

Sonea frowned at the look of disgust that crossed Dorik's face. So she was wrong. What was it then? She looked closer. From the dust on his strange clothes he had travelled some distance to reach Kyralia. He could have stopped at any inn along the road and changed yet, by the dark circles under his eyes, only apparent to her now because she was looking, she could see that he had been travelling for a while. However, these simple deductions served no purpose in explaining why he had come all the way to Kyralia not to overthrow the King. It was what the Ichani had done when they had invaded ten years before. Did men now want power? Glory? Kyralia was still weak after the invasion. What with Akkarin in Sachaka and Sonea as restricted as she was it would have been easy to take the city. They needed more time to prepare.

"I would have thought better of you, Sonea. After all your intelligence and power is renowned."

He glanced at her and noted the look of confusion that creased her face. He rose and began to pace.

"My people, Sonea, have a tendency to listen and...watch out, if you will, for our cousins in Kyralia. Quite a few years ago we heard of an invasion taking place in the country that was, to all intents and purposes our home. And so we prepared for war. However,' he glanced at her once more, "We never got the chance to protect Kyralia because one of the magicians there, accompanied by his apprentice, had already saved the country."

A shiver of fear sliced down Sonea's back. Apprentice? The Guild had abandoned calling magicians in training 'Apprentice' years ago. They had replaced it with the more suitable title of 'Novice' which represented every person who had ever worn the brown robes. It showed their vulnerability yet displayed a typical trait of most would be magicians; the readiness to learn and the acceptance that they would never be masters of magic for there were not enough millennia for them to know everything they could about magic. The term 'Apprentice' only served to give the feeling that magical knowledge would totally be acquired within a short space of time. It was a trade that a person learnt and relied on for the rest of their life. Even to the most uncaring of magicians the term seemed inadequate.

"There you go again. Drifting as I speak to you. I wonder...what are you thinking?"

Sonea's attention snapped back to the present and she regarded Dorik with a critical eye.

"I am wondering what you want. If it is not power then what? You tell me you wanted to save Kyralia but it was already saved...what is it, then, that is the problem?"

Dorik sighed, "Sonea, Sonea, Sonea. We were please that Kyralia had been saved. But the invasion, as you call it, opened our eyes, to something extraordinary."

"And what was that?"

"You."

Sonea stared at him in disbelief. If there was anyone who deserved to be described as extraordinary it was Akkarin. Particularly if it concerned the Ichani invasion.

"Why me? Why not Akkarin? He did, after all, save us all."

"With your help."

"As minimal as that was."

Dorik sighed. "Why do you downplay the role you had? Without you Akkarin would have been lost. We know this, but you chose to ignore it. We however don't."

Dorik turned and strode over to the window, through which the orange light of the setting sun was shining.

"We know that the Velans are courageous, and loyal to Kyralia. It is something that has been in their blood since their great family was founded all those centuries ago. It is you, however, that interests us. You, from an unknown background, show a...a...valour and power that has not been seen for centuries."

"I think you exaggerate." She muttered.

"I don't."

He turned and Sonea saw that his eyes were almost feverish passion. It surprised her. This man she had only met that day, speaking of her as if he knew her very soul. He strode towards her and knelt before her.

"Sonea, we came all this way, not for Kyralia, for the crown or for the Guild. We came for you."

Sonea laughed, she had had enough of this foolishness. Valour and power and...she was tired. She was beaten and she was tired and Dorik's mad ravings had began to aggravate the anger that had been brewing behind the daily facade she had tried to keep intact for her sanity's sake. She was tied of being nice to people who only beat her down in the end. This man, with all his elevated language, was no exception. He was a threat and she had to get rid of him.

She laughed once more, this time coldly and said, "I'm afraid you have wasted your journey."

He frowned, "How do you mean?"

"I'm not going anywhere." She then lifted her knee sharply and hit him in the jaw, jarring his teeth against one another. He howled with pain and fell backwards however Sonea did not give him a chance to recover. She rose out of the chair lashed out again, intent on knocking him selfless in order to get out of the study and prepare herself for a fight with whoever he had brought with him. However the last thing she expected was for Dorik to roll away from her and leap smoothly to his feet.

Blood trickled from the corner of his lip and dripped onto the floor, yet he did not seem to notice. Sonea suddenly realised that the likelihood of her escaping had reduced significantly from mere moments ago. She had hoped that he would have been taken unawares and that she could have slipped by him easily enough. However, now she knew that she had been right in thinking that Dorik was a military man. He shifted smoothly into a crouch, preparing to fight her. His eyes took in every movement she made and he shifted, constantly moving, like an animal ready for action. He wasn't going to get much action, what with her hands tied behind her back.

"Don't make this difficult for us, Sonea." He warned, circling her.

"I don't think it would make a difference if I made it easy or not."

He smiled, "Once again Sonea..."

"Once again what?"

"I'm sorry Sonea. But this has to be done."

He moved so fast Sonea nearly missed him as he darted forward and kicked her feet from under her. She fell with a thud and felt the sharp cold blade of a dagger run smoothly across her neck. For the second time that day she fell into complete blackness. This time, however, it was blissfully silent.


	4. The Honest Determination of a Failure

**The Honest Determination of a Failure**

Many people believe that every adventure begins with a journey. A journey is an experience filled with endless possibilities. It affords the traveller to see new places, and in those new places, meet new people. Journeys are created as a means to...experience life. The ardent explorer persists that no matter how long the journey is, whether it be to the local market or to distant lands, that each journey has the potential to change one's life if they just open their eyes and their hearts to the new experiences bombarding them with emotion and life. For those who do not make the effort, well, the journey is merely a tiresome hindrance to their eventual destination, something to be endured. These people walk through life unaware of their own potential. However, there is a third group, the ones who do not seek these journeys, who do not go out looking for adventure but instead stumble upon it blindly. From these adventures they learn the secrets of their own lives and become the wisest of people. Fate has dealt them the cruellest of blows by not preparing them for this diversion along their intended paths, yet these people, who are more commonly known as heroes, they are shaped by these journeys, and are defined by their actions along the treacherous pathways of adventure.

One such person, a woman that was known throughout Kyralia for her poor backgrounds, who was known for her total upheaval of the Magicians' Guild, and for her critical part in the Ichani invasion, found herself once more journeying into the unknown, on an adventure. With a pounding headache and ferocious temper she was, however, going to have none of it.

Darkness had fallen over her third night with the enemy. She called them the enemy for the people she was with, the fools who had decided to abduct her from the only place she could call home, had refused to tell her who they were. Without this clarification she could not designate them into any social group. To call them outcasts was a little too much like calling them Ichani, and, with their pale skin and dark hair, they were clearly not Sachakan. She could have presumed they were some sort of clan or tribe, considering their similar features, but from which clan or tribe? In Kyralia there were only families and Houses. In fact the only place in the whole of the Allied lands that had tribes, so to speak, was Lonmar, and once again they looked more Kyralian, if she was to be perfectly honest and believe in the common sense that had been gifted to her from a very young age.

Having exhausted all the possibilities, Sonea had decided that these people were from outside the Allied lands, and the fact that they had taken her hostage, a situation she was growing increasingly weary of, and had decided upon themselves to drain her every day in case she got out of hand, allowed her to settle on the name, "the enemy".

Whoever they were, she admitted grimly, they knew how to deal with a black magician. This difficulty could only have been reduced by the devastating truth that they were black magicians themselves and, seemingly, well used to taking their own kind as prisoners. In addition to this was her own stupidity. As a black magician of the Guild she was expected to be able to protect the Guild from any threats they should face in future. Her capture could only mean that she had failed. She had been foolish enough to take on a man she knew nothing about, had even had a civil conversation with him before he drained her into unconsciousness. If only she had the sense to think through her situation and come up with a way to escape him. It was too late now. Once again, she had failed.

After her thwarted attempt to fight, when she had regained consciousness, she had found herself tied to the back of a horse. Her whole body ached and her throat had been dry with thirst. It had taken her a few moments to gather her surroundings, but when she had been a struggle for her not to scream in frustration. Instead she had calmed her panic stricken heart and taken a few deep breaths.

"Dorik," she'd called.

In response she had received a sharp poke in the back. Unable to life her head, a difficult thing to do when tied to the back of a horse with her facing looking down into the mud of the dirt track beneath, she had listened instead to a harsh voice berating her.

"Never address the prince by his first name."

"Prince," she spat, "when did he become a prince?"

"He comes from a long line of royal blood and, therefore, he should be respected as per his position. Do not have me tell you again."

With only the long road to contemplate, Sonea was left to dwell on the ludicrous concept that one of her captors was indeed a royal. She laughed inwardly at the suggestion. Noting about Dorik had stank of the superiority she had seen in the palace the few times she had been to address the King. Maybe royalty, wherever these people came from, responded to their people in a different way. Maybe they were more sociable, more inclined to feel at one with their subjects. It was a thought she could only ever imagine. She knew, from the books she had read and the people she had met, that power corrupted everyone. It was a downside to what some people called human nature. Money and the idea of superiority only turned people nasty, they only ever wanted more of the drugs that were not so readily available to the general populace. A family as powerful as a royal family could only ever be the same, whichever country was represented.

And so the long day passed with Sonea stolidly looking at the ground and the motley company around her muttering in a language she fancied she had heard before. Only when night had eventually descended, did she get the chance to have a look around at the people who were such joyful company. Immediately, among the many pale faces warriors, for how could they anything else with their short cropped hair and cautious, sometimes scarred faces, did she realise that Dorik was not among them? She wondered at the Prince's absence but decided that it could only be a good thing that he was gone. It have her a greater chance at escape because the others didn't know what tricks she had up her sleeve. They didn't know she could fight as well with her body as she could with magic.

That night an opportunity to escape, however, eluded her. She was forced to watch, with a reluctant admiration, as they set up camp. Completely ignoring her, they set about lighting small fires and laying out various rolls of cloth that she eventually made out to be individual beds, with only the hard ground as a mattress. Some vanished into the surrounding countryside and, like shadows in the night; she couldn't see nor hear anything of their passage. And all this they did without magic, even though she knew at least one of their number was a magician. She had witnessed the man passing his hand over his horse's face and creating a small globe light to view a cut the animal had received from a low lying branch which had appeared unexpectedly in the gloom as they had travelled in the failing light. The animal had been restless but when the magician had places his large hand on the horse it had stopped moving and a strange calm had descended upon the animal. After he had finished, Sonea watched as the man made his way around the entire group, ensuring that each animal was healthy and uninjured. He seemed to be at one with the animals, a notion Sonea could barely comprehend. Having been born in the city she had little experience or time for any creature other than the conniving people she met every day of her life. When it came to horses, she felt almost afraid of their enormous size, a size that indicated the power behind each movement they made. The only time she had ever ridden a horse was when she had made her way to Sachaka with Akkarin, upon their exile from the Guild.

Her chest blossomed with a fresh wave of pain as she thought of him. Even when her life was potentially at risk she could not help but miss him, and worry for him. Eventually, thoughts of Akkarin led to thoughts of her son, Lorkin. He had grown so much. If she closed her eyes she could see his youthful face grinning at her. Their last visit had been perfect. He had told her everything he had been up to since the last time they had seen each other and she had sat, listening to his childish voice and marvelling at the creature which she had carried in her womb for nine months. She remembered not believing that he was a product of her love for Akkarin, a love that they had shared and, in some unknown world, a love that should have endured. However, society was a demanding task master and Sonea had been forced to memorise her son's every feature; his small hands, his dark eyes that shone so brightly in his own childish passion for life, even his thin features which reminded her so much of his father. She had to treasure every moment for she knew her visits were too few and far between. And now, possibly miles away from Kyralia, she was being an even worse mother than she already was for she had left her son behind. He was safer, but every son needed his mother. She had failed as a black magician and she had failed as a mother. It had not been a good evening for Sonea.

In time the men who had disappeared into the darkness returned with small game, which was promptly roasted on spits above the campfires. Sonea had been untied and a lump of steaming meat thrust into her numb hand. Despite her grief, Sonea had eaten well that night, for the meat had been succulent, and she had been hungry. Soon after they had chewed the last of the animals' bones the enemy had retired to the respective bedrolls and fallen asleep. Sonea noted that a few remained away, once again disappearing into the darkness. She doubted that they were hunting. They were just silent eyes drinking in the black of the night, ready to strike at any form of danger.

Sonea had slept uncomfortably that night and her discomfort did not improve as the routine repeated the next day, and the next. On the third night she had been ordered to sit by a boulder that cornered the field they had taken residence in, and told to remain silent. Thus she had set about reminiscing about the well chosen name she had selected for her despised group of companions. However, there was something even more notable about the third evening. That night the enemy had started to speak to her, providing an opportunity for her escape.

Her 'partner in crime', as she liked to think of him, came in the form of a young man. Unlike the others he had often viewed her with a sort of pity, one that she hated of course, but one that allowed her to manipulate him to her needs. After realising what a failure she had become in recent years, what with her pathetic actions as a magician after the invasion, Sonea had decided that on this journey of hers she would hone her skills, and test herself. Not only did she need to get back to the Guild in case the missing Dorik posed any threat, but also because she had to see if she could, in fact, escape. Plenty of times over recent years she had shown her audacity and natural cunning for getting the better out of certain awkward and life threatening situations. This being one of the more challenging, she hoped that ten years of easy living had not made her lose any abilities she had picked up from a life of drudgery and hardship in the slums.

That evening, when the hunters returned, Sonea watched as they began gutting the creatures and spearing their flimsy bodies onto rough stakes. The process made her stomach turn a little.

"I guess you haven't had much of an opportunity to live the outdoor life, have you?"

Sonea turned. The sympathetic young man had moved in from behind her carrying a bundle of sticks for the campfires. Once more he seemed to regard her with an expression so soft it reminded her oddly of the way her cousin Hania looked at her, when Jonna was berating her to move on with her life. Hania always hated it when her mother shouted, she always whispered to Sonea afterwards, telling her that it would be okay, that Jonna would stop being angry with her. This time the young man seemed to understand that Sonea was a person far from complete, how he did she couldn't guess. It irritated her that these people seemed to know more about her than she did. However, his expression of sympathy was far better than the blank expressions of the others. She hungered for at least a shred of human company.

Sonea smiled slightly, at him, "You're right. The Guild has spoiled me these last years. It doesn't help that I'm not allowed to leave the city," she knew she shouldn't have told him that but guessed that if they knew so much about her then that, hardly secret, fact couldn't have been missed, "but I don't think that the outdoor life would have suited me anyway. There is something very undesirable in sleeping on the hard ground. "

He laughed at that. "It's a disadvantage, yes but once we journey on you'll begin to see the upside to having the sky as your ceiling and the dry honest dirt as your mattress."

Unable to ever contemplate the thought, Sonea just gave him a sidelong glance and shook her head.

"What?" he asked, seeing her scepticism.

She clicked her tongue, "There is nothing in this land that could motivate me to think like that. As you've probably noticed, I more so enjoy the work that I do. This," she gestured towards the darkening countryside around d them," and this," to the sky this time, "In me they don't...stir anything. I've been in the ugliness of the city for too long. Instead of looking for beauty around me I look for something liveable in people instead, because if I can tolerate people then I might just be able to survive in this life of mine."

The man shook his head, staring out into the darkness that she found so unappealing, "Once we get home you will not feel like that."

Sonea felt a stirring of excitement at the mention of their eventual destination. "Oh really," she said, feigning disinterest, "and where do you call home?"

She resisted for as long as she could but eventually gave in and turned to find the man looking at her knowingly.

"Was I that obvious?"

"Yes."

Before she could respond, however, a harsh voice cut through the, otherwise, silent camp.

"Magician Leiden, you were ordered to collect wood for the fire, not chat with our visitor."

Leiden jumped, a guilty look hastily stealing over his face. "My apologies, Lord Mirken. Here is the firewood now." And with a quick, polite bow towards Sonea the young man moved away to join the huge glaring man that sat crouched, like a hunting animal, by the fire.

He completely ignored Leiden as he set the load of sticks on the ground and waited patiently for more orders. Instead he continued to stare at Sonea, a thing that she found quite disturbing. Having grown up in the slums she knew that men looked at women like that for one of two reasons, and none of them were good. However, not one to show her fear, she stared back defiantly. It was a quiet battle of wills, to see which one of them would look away first. The silence weighed heavily on the camp as each individual member became aware of this most ancient and secret of wars. Who would win, she could imagine them thinking. The poor, drained captive or the domineering, no doubt, powerful magician? Or maybe the captive's history has some merit and she would win as was a part of her character? Or maybe this man, one who was a clear leader of warriors would win through sheer brute force? They watched in thirsty anticipation, licking their lips in excitement. Like a pack of hungry limek, thought Sonea. She could almost imagine them howling in bloodlust, a battle cry ready on their tongues, saliva dripping down their teeth in need of defeated flesh.

It was to Sonea's stubborn nature that she gave credit to in the end. He looked away first. Disgust in his manly, disdainful snort, he turned and pretended to survey the readiness of their meal for that night. Sonea knew that he was more so intimidated by her unwavering stare, she hoped.

Once the animals were cooked Sonea had another opportunity to speak with Leiden, a young man that was proving to be surprisingly chatty for one of such a sombre looking people.

"Leiden," Sonea asked, tearing ravenously at the piping hot meat, "who is that man over there?"

Leiden looked up from his meal to glance in the direction she had nodded to, "That is Lord Mirken."

Sonea sighed in frustration, "I know that. Tell me something about him."

Leiden shrugged, "There is nothing to tell. He is one of the Warriors. Actually, he is the leader of the Warriors."

Sonea paused suddenly, "Why do you call him Lord Mirken? Is it because he is a magician?"

She frowned as he shook his head. "Then why...?"

"It is because he is a landowner. Please stop asking me such questions. It is not my responsibility to give you the answers."

"I just want to understand."

You will understand soon enough."

Holding back the torrent of frustrated words she wanted to say Sonea, instead, calmed herself. "Why are you being so elusive? Can you not at least tell me where we are going or how long it will take to get there?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

Leiden sighed and rose to his feet, "Because any information you gain will only be passed on to the Guild you still feel loyal to. Any information they gain of us will not benefit them and it would certainly be a disaster to everyone at home. In my home, that is. We have not existed for the length of time that we have because we were generous with the facts of our very lives. In the world I grew up in secrecy is a gift every one hungers for, more so than food or treasure. One of my people can look a King's ransom in its glittering eye and refuse, knowing that they will lose their life, yet also knowing that they have saved their people from the dangers of the land we occupy. It is a hard, yet necessary truth. "

Leiden sighed and looked up at the sky above him. His shoulders relaxed slightly, having become tense during his passionate speech. Sonea wondered what comfort he found in the endless inky blue of the night sky. There were stars there, of course. In the hotter season they shone like jewels, diamonds if she was to be accurate, of a sheet of silk. If she looked closely enough she could imagine being able to pass her hand over such a magnificent cloth as the sky presents, and feel its silky smoothness beneath her finger tips, like new skin. But to Sonea knowing that the night sky provided such a fantasy, gave her little comfort. In material objects she found little value or worth.

"I wish, Sonea, I could tell you." Leiden looked back down at her and gave her a sympathetic smile, "But you are not mine to tell."

With that he left, back to the camp fire where most of the group were congregating.

It was a curious sensation, knowing that someone, somewhere, owned her. For that was what Leiden had hinted at in the first place. "You are not mine" he had said. If there was anybody she had though owned her was Akkarin, just as she owned him body and soul. However, Leiden's words got her thinking, thinking that there was something bigger than this group of captives. That there was someone more powerful, who had control over all of these black magicians, that wanted her. And, from experience, she knew that if someone that powerful wanted her they could be only after one thing...her own power. Why would they want it? Sonea didn't know. She did know, however, that she did not want to be involved in the deaths of anymore people. The Ichani invasion had been enough. She had killed again and again. There was enough blood on her hands and she had only just turned thirty. She would not be responsible for another death. Thus decided, Sonea prepared herself to act, to escape. For Leiden it was going to prove quite an unfortunate night, she thought.

It was several hours after the rest of the camp had turned in before she saw Leiden arising from his bedroll to take the watch. She had seen that the others treated the young magician as if he were nothing more than a nuisance, tagging along where he was not wanted. In fact the only person who treated him with any modicum of respect was the horse healer. But, seemingly, to the rest of the group this man was an outcast, only needed to ensure their animals survived the journey back to whichever place they called home. Seeing that the group didn't think much of Leiden Sonea presumed they would give him all the distasteful tasks that they wished to avoid. She had been correct in her presumption so far as he had been made, before he could lie down and rest awhile, to clear the innards of the various animals they had eaten for their dinner and burn them a little away from the camp. In addition he had been the only one made to come into contact with her, draining her and passing the power onto Lord Mirken. He had also tied her bonds again.

Sonea hoped that he didn't hold any resentment for her prying earlier in the evening for she needed his cooperation to escape the camp. She watched as he made his way slowly towards the outside of the camp. As the previous watcher moved towards their bedroll, he made a few slow circuits of the camp, chaffing his arms in an attempt to bring some heat to them. Even though it was the beginning of summer in Kyralia the nights were still cold as the sun left and the moon invited the coldness to rule over its twilight domain.

She waited a few moments to ensure everyone was once more asleep then whispered softly, "Leiden?"

His dark, shadowy from stopped moving and she saw his head turn in her direction.

"Leiden." Sonea tried again.

He moved a little closer to her, "What is it Sonea?"

She smiled as she heard the wariness in his tone. She didn't blame him. She feigned to struggle, "Can you help me here?"

"What is wrong?"

She tugged at the bonds that ensured her arms remained tied behind her back.

"These bonds are cutting into my wrists. I actually think they have broken through my skin."

Leiden laughed wearily, "I'm not foolish enough to fall for that trick, one of the oldest in the book I believe."

Uttering a gasp of dismay Sonea looked despairingly at Leiden, knowing he couldn't see her expression in the darkness but knowing he would hear the pain in her voice. "Please Leiden, you can trust me. You are much stronger than me and you have your powers. Where would I go anyway? All I want is to be able to have a comfortable night's sleep for once."

"And you didn't ask the previous look out to help you?"

"No I..." she hesitated, "I didn't trust him like a trust you."

Leiden sighed. "Fine," he said, moving towards her, "But don't make me regret it."

He knelt down in front of her, ensuring that as he reached behind her to loosen the bonds his body and arms were like a cage, preventing her from going anywhere. Sonea smiled, this was going to be too easy. She moved her head to the right slightly. His face was very close to hers. Through the murkiness of the night she could almost make out his cheek, the fine curl of his hair...

She waited in utter stillness, not moving in case he thought she was trying to escape. It was only when the right moment came, when the bonds had been totally loosened from around her wrists, did she actually strike.

Without warning she thrust her face forward and bit Leiden hard on the ear. Quickly breaking the flesh and tasting blood in her mouth, she tore her hands from her bonds and slapped one firmly across his mouth so that he couldn't cry out, the other onto his ear.

Just as she had been trained all those years ago she sensed her own power, then extended her senses through the gap in Leiden's barrier to sense his power. Immediately she drew his power into herself as fast as she could. When she sensed his body beginning to weaken above her she stopped draining him. In an instant he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Wanting to shout her victory but knowing that such an action would prove fatal, Sonea smiled slightly instead and began to crawl towards the outer perimeter of the camp. Once she had reached the edge of the field her captors had chosen for their resting stop, Sonea stumbled onto her feet and ran into the country side. She had to get away from these people before they realised what she had done and that she had escaped. She needed to get back to the Guild and warn them that there could possibly be another enemy that they were unaware of.

The country side, however, extended all around her, for they had left the safety of the road the previous day. With only the light of the moon she tried to gauge the direction from which they had come from. She hoped that she would find the road, and a convenient farm house to tell her where exactly she was, before her captors found her and punished her for defying them, and denying them power that their master, whoever he was, clearly wanted.


	5. A Question of Doing What's Right

A Question of Doing What's Right

_There is something about Sonea that belies the eye. Some hidden quality people cannot understand, or perhaps chose not to understand. There is an underlying intelligence there that she shows, overtly, very rarely, instead relying on other's perception of her, that ubiquitous term, the slum girl. And so she continues on, elusive and invisible. Why does she do this? Is she simply too shy to show her natural talents? Is she too modest perhaps? From my discussions with Akkarin I know that she was quiet as a Novice, quiet and reserved. Yet he, himself, saw this quality in her. Perhaps it takes a certain eye to discern this in her. Akkarin, of course, is not normal by any means, which would give credence to my theory. I laughed then, when he asked me what it was that I wanted with Sonea. Why was I so interested in her life, her past and present. Now I can see that, even in remote Sachaka, he was still watching over her protectively, this woman, the only person in the whole of Kyralia, who had believed in him. He loved her then, even when he knew he would never have her again. I respect him for that and wished I had not laughed at what I thought was envy in his voice at the time. However, I must get back to the crux of my question...what is it about Sonea that eludes us? Frankly, I cannot say fully, as of yet. _

_From the Diaries of Prince Dorik of the Family Vorn, House Loren._

"Mother!"

Sonea's heart lifted as she saw him, that slight tiny figure, hurrying down the stairs to meet her.

"Lorkin!"

She ran to him. Within moments his warm body was wrapped securely between her two arms and she was burying her face into his hair, kissing him again and again. Something within her, something that had been tightly clenching at her heart finally released its malicious hold, leaving a devastation of tears in its wake.

"Mother! Wha...Mother! Why are you crying?"

She shook her head numbly and held him all the tighter, unable to look into those young eyes and see the concern there, He was too young to worry about her. He shouldn't have to fear.

"Sonea? What are you doing here?'

Sonea looked up to see Malia standing there. Malia, that demon of a woman. She reminded Sonea of an old whore she met once in her youth. Sharp eyed and narrow faced, Malia was a woman who knew the world could bite and she wasn't afraid to bite back. What a stern and horrendous woman she was. Cold as well, to a point that Sonea had often worried about leaving Lorkin in her care. In any normal adult Malia struck the fear of death. What would she do to a child? Her manner was neither endearing of friendly. She was just an awkward, stubborn old woman that old Velan couldn't get rid of. It was hard, when she compared her to her son, to believe that this barbarian seeming woman was, in fact, Akkarin's mother. Yet the evidence was there. He had her dark eyes, which in his face had been cold on more than one occasion in his earlier dealings with Sonea. Eyes that, she was afraid to say, Lorkin had inherited too, although he had not experienced so much that she would see anything but a child's natural earnestness there. Akkarin had also inherited his shrewd politics from her to but, thankfully, she knew he had never indulged in the childish games his mother had played on the acquaintances she had made in court, for there the resemblance had ended, to his mother's chagrin and his father's contentment.

The routine that had been set up after Akkarin's return from Sachaka, when Sonea's pregnancy had been revealed and the Delvon's had discovered there would be a new bastard addition to the family, had been Malia's idea. She had hoped to conserve what dignity the family had left after Akkarin's shame and this new disaster, by hushing Lorkin's existence up to the general public while ensuring that Akkarin was married and disassociated from his unwanted child' when the Guild sent him back to Sachaka.

"Malia please leave."

Sonea smiled as another voice joined Malia on the stairs, cutting off her berating snarl that, even as Sonea had ignored her and comforted her son, had continued in an unending spiel of maliciousness and vitriol.

Malia gaped, "What do you mean, 'please leave'?"

"Exactly that."

She met his eyes with such hostility, Sonea wondered at Akkarin's claim that Delvon and Malia had once been the young lovers of their generation. There was too much pent up fury infused in her body, and cool calculable intelligence in his eyes to ever qualify for more than a bearable existence. Yet, here they were, still married after everything that had happened their family since the Ichani invasion, and, rumour had it, many years before as well.

To Sonea's relief, a battle with the head of House Velan was one which, apparently, Malia could not win for, after a short awkward silence she huffed and, giving Sonea one last glare, she stomped back up the stairs, leaving Sonea alone with Delvon in the hall.

Delvon turned his ice blue eyes on Sonea and gestured towards the marble stairs, "Come."

Grasping Lorkin's had, Sonea followed silently up the stairs, ensuring she remained a step behind the old family patriarch. As a magician she, technically, was of a higher social rank than Delvon, head if House Velan, yet when she was around him, or in fact when anyone was around him, he imbued a sort of cool confidence, a subtle power that cowed everyone in the room. It had taken Sonea a while to discern what it was in this man that made her so unnaturally subjugate. It was something beyond the wealthy clothes he wore or the ancient mansion he lived in, where he had been born, his children, and ever generation of Velan that had come before.

"I hear all is not well at the Guild." He murmured as they reached the top of the stairs.

"To be honest I haven't been back yet-, "Sonea bit her lip over the 'sir' that had been on the tip of her tongue.

"Indeed, your disappearance caused quite a stir. I heard that some even believe you had something to do with the...ah...attack, that you were conspiring with them."

Sonea quickly schooled her face to mask the anger that had so suddenly sprung up in her chest.

"Of course they did." She couldn't quite get the bitterness out of her tone, though. "And how do they explain presence in the hall that day? Do they believe I would use my son to escape...and leave him here?"

Delvon didn't miss the insinuation in her voice, and slowed slightly. He sighed and looked at the wall. They were passing a doorway to a darkened room. On her many journeys to Delvon's study Sonea had never noticed this door, not that she should have for it was one of no doubt many within the seven hundred year old structure, but that door was open. It was daylight and the room was dark. And within the room a shadowed figure stood.

"You have to be..." Sonea began.

"Father!"

Lorkin's hand slipped out of hers. She grinned as the grey form stooped to pick up the little boy and enfold him in his arms. A globe light flared above him as he set Lorkin down.

Akkarin crouched to scrutinise his son.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth, that traditional crooked smile that was so uniquely his. "Look how much you have grown," He murmured. He continued to regard Lorkin for a minute then took him into his arms once more. Sonea's throat tightened as she saw how closely Akkarin held Lorkin. She took in the pain she could see flickering beneath the surface of Akkarin's traditional calm and wished she could not read him so well. She didn't want to see how the forced separation from his son was hurting him. How could she when she had her own burdens to carry. Had they been together they could have shared the load, borne the grief together, but now that she had given birth to him, now that she knew both her blood and Akkarin's blood flowed through her son's, their son's veins, what would life be without Lorkin.

Akkarin pushed Lorkin gently to arms length and smiled once more. "Have you kept your promise the last time we met?" The boy grinned happily and nodded.

Finally Akkarin turned to meet her, "Have you been taking care of your mother?"

Sonea heart began to beat rapidly and she started to move towards him. A loud bang stopped her in her tracks. She glanced back at Delvon who had closed the door on their intimate scene and was moving towards Akkarin, regarding him coldly.

"You should be more careful, Akkarin."

Akkarin sighed ad looked at the ground, "I know. But you have kept me hidden here for most of the day. I wanted to see Lorkin and when I heard...I had to...it could have been hours before...and the Guild..."

Unconsciously Akkarin moved towards Lorkin who huddled into the crux of his father's arm. His face was wary now, unnatural for a child he possessed a certain intuition, a perceptiveness that most children didn't have, He could sense when the mood changed in the room, when the adults were fighting.

Delvon's face suddenly became very weary. He nodded slowly, "I know, my Son, I know."

They regarded each other for a moment. Sonea was struck by how similar they looked; dark hair, thin angular face, same slim form. Between them she saw a communication pass that she would never be privy to, such was the bond between father and son, between the blood members of family Delvon, House Velan.

The moment passed as the door quietly opened behind them. Sonea froze, expecting Malia's shrill voice to reverberate around the darkened room, or even worse, Balkan's commanding voice ordering her to return to the Guild quickly changing to alarm once he found who was in the room with her.

Delvon, who had turned in alarm to face the doorway, sighed quietly in relief. "Oh, it's only you Laurena."

"Yes, father."

Delvon's relief was short lived, however, for as Laurena made her way towards the Globe light, Sonea saw him glance anxiously at the brother and sister. For a moment his calm demeanour gave way to the true emotion that lay beneath but was gone in an instant. A life of politics in the King's court had taught him well, and he instead turned querying eyes on Sonea, his brow slightly raised. She nodded in understanding. She knew little of the conflict that existed between Akkarin and Laurens, only that it had begun on the eve of his departure to Sachaka and had endured all the intervening years since. Before that, in the months after the Ichani invasion, when it had become common knowledge that Akkarin was more to Sonea than her former guardian and High Lord, he had, once he had recovered from his wound, taken her to meet his family. Of all the people at the meal that night, it had been Delvon and Laurena who were the most welcoming.

At the time Laurena had been quiet and reserved but beneath the aloof exterior Sonea had seen a wry sense of humour and shrewd intelligence she had never seen in a woman. That night, and the day up to Akkarin's exile from Kyralia Laurena had been a strong reassuring presence, treating Sonea as she would anyone else of very close acquaintance.

It was a pity that in the last ten years she had grown distant. Sonea missed the conversations they used to have; the little snippets of Laurena and Akkarin's life before he joined the Guild and she the Guard.

That day, Laurena glanced once at her brother, nodding faintly in his direction them moved to sit near the curtain drawn windows where a faint orange light was filtering through the sides of the heavy velvet material.

She didn't acknowledge Sonea.

Feeling snubbed Sonea scowled. Akkarin stood abruptly and shook his head in warning but Sonea had had enough of this childish behaviour. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter the first words of recrimination that came to mind Laurena spoke from the nether reaches of the room.

"It's good to see you back, Sonea."

Sonea's mouth snapped shut, and she regarded Laurena warily, unsure what to say.

"I'm sorry I brought Lorkin to the Guild that day. Had I known of course, I would have left him _safely _at home." She continued on, her voice heavy with irony.

Akkarin's face darkened and he turned to glare at the reclining figure by the window.

"Had you have known," he whispered, "Had you have known?"He shook his head slowly and took a few steps back towards Sonea, trailing Lorkin in his wake.

"This is my family, Laurena."

"Define what you mean by family, _Akkarin_."

He didn't answer. He continued to watch her, his eyes devoid of emotion.

"What do you want Akkarin? Do you want a family? Do you want a son and a wife, and all the loving, joyful things that come with it?"

She stood suddenly and strode towards him, her body bristling with anger. In the full glare of the Globe Light Sonea could see her twisted expression, the earnest fury of her eyes. Another part of her mind wondered at what a striking figure the woman cut. She wore the black uniform of the King's military advisor well. She was slim and tall, almost as tall as her father and brother. Her hair was long, tied back and blended into the folds of her uniform as though both were made from the one and same inky silk. A decorated sword rested idly against her hip.

Sonea's attention was drawn back as Akkarin snarled and stepped closer, barley a hands breadth between his face and Laurena's.

"You had no right."

Laurena laughed. It was a harsh laugh that tore through the relative silence of the room. Something warm brushed against Sonea's leg and she looked down to find Lorkin there, looking worriedly up at her. She put an arm around his shoulders and drew him closer to herself. She thought of leaving but was wary of the limits of Akkarin's control. She didn't believe he would harm his sister, who had once been closer to him than Sonea could ever be, but they had built up ten years of resentment and nobody knew how that would manifest itself when harsh words were spoken in anger.

"And what right do you think you have, Akkarin? What right do you have to do this to her, to all of us?"

Akkarin scowled, "What is it that I am doing that is so much to your distaste, sister? As far as I am aware I have complied with everything the Guild and the King have ordered of me to ensure that my family, yes" he said as she snorted, "my family can live in peace in Kyralia; here at home and away from the dangers in Sachaka."

"It's not what you're doing that is so unbearable. It's the fact that you do nothing. Where is the old Akkarin that I know? My Brother whom I love. The one who was never tied down by rules. Ever since the Ichani invasion he has been gone. Dead."

Akkarin gaped at her. "Laurena...my hands are tied..." he breathed.

She shook her head viciously, "That never stopped you before. Akkarin, look at her.'

Sonea was surprised to find herself suddenly the centre of everyone's attention. Laurena gestured towards her, towards Lorkin, then turned back to Akkarin. "You know what the Guild is like, what those...those...bastards of the Houses are like." Her voice dropped lower and her face creased with a concern that had been absent for far too long. Sonea thought it now came too late. "Please Akkarin. You know her too. Better than any of us. You know this is wrong what is going to be done to her. She is a social outcast and will be until the end of her days. It's better if you let her go."

Sonea opened her mouth in indignation at being called a social outcast. How dare Laurena. Who had been so absent in their lives for so long, even attempt to try and discern what Sonea was feeling. It wasn't true what she was saying. Sonea had friends here, she had family...she had Lorkin. She was an outcast no more. That was what her mind was telling her anyway, that fine creation of magical ingenuity, her heart was telling her she was a liar.

Sonea met Akkarin's eyes and she saw the despair there. For the first time his mask, just as his fathers had been earlier, was gone and in its place was the raw emotion he was capable of. The feeling that had driven him to fight for his life in Sachaka, to hunt down the Ichani slaves and to risk everything he had to save Kyralia.

Akkarin was a good man who had become lost in the ever changing wasteland of politics, she realised. He was the greatest of warriors on the battle field, he was the most cunning of silver tongues in the court. But when it came to what he wanted, what he needed, he couldn't have what it was that he wanted for he neither had to fight or argue for it. He was caught between keeping the peace in Kyralia and preventing war in Sachaka. There was no where he or Sonea or Lorkin could go and live in the peace they deserved.

Sonea saw the light in Akkarin's eyes change as Laurena's words sank in. Sonea shook her head.

"But I don't want to," he whispered.

"You have to," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She went to turn but immediately hands found her arms and held them tightly behind her back. She felt Delvons strong fingers digging into her skin, for who else would have the audacity to grab a black magician in such a way than him.

"Let me go," she growled.

She watched as Akkarin walked slowly towards her.

"What will happen to Lorkin?' he murmured, taking her face gently between his two palms.

"He will stay with you. We will speak with the Guild."

Akkarin shook his head, "No. When I get back, I will." He looked back down at Sonea and held her gaze. She found it hard to meet that dark gaze once more, although this time it was very different reasons than those of her younger Novice days.

"Akkarin, I'm not going with him." She breathed.

"You have no choice, Sonea."

She stared at him, aghast. "You can't take me away from my son.'

"It's not forever. Trust me Sonea."

She began to struggle in the grip that held her, "No. You can't do this."

Akkarin shook his head then brought his lips down to press softly on her forehead.

"Take care of her, Dorik."

"I will."

"Mother!"

Sonea gasped, "Lorkin, run. Just...run."

"Laurena..." Akkarin whispered.

A moment of silence ensured then finally, "I have him."

Akkarin nodded once more and reached behind him. Sonea saw a glimmer of red. Understanding suddenly came crashing down on her.

"NO! Akkarin, don't do this."

His eyes were cold, black, as he grasped her chin and slowly slid the blade of the dagger down her cheek.

"I am sorry Sonea."

"You're all the same..." she wanted to shout, but it came out as a whisper. A long drawn out exhalation of air that shrieked in the darkness she sank into. A darkness that was oddly cold, and blank, filled with pain and sorrow. She was utterly alone there.


End file.
